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His knees wrapped in ice, his nose cut and the sweat still dripping down his forehead, Kellen Dunham lumbered into the bitter cold Saturday afternoon, exiting the Cintas Center through a back hallway before catching the team bus. He was, for the first time all day, alone.

It was a luxury he could not attain over the previous two hours, no matter how many pump fakes he made, no matter how many screens he curled around, no matter how resolute Butler's star sophomore may have been. Xavier simply wouldn't have it.

It was the Musketeers' game plan, plain as day yet demanding in its execution: Stop ...